


You Bleed Just to Know You're Alive

by sweeterthankarma



Category: Euphoria (TV 2019)
Genre: Canon Trans Character, Gen, S1E4: Shook Ones Pt. II, Self-Harm, Young Jules Vaughn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22250656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthankarma/pseuds/sweeterthankarma
Summary: The bandages on Jules' arm are clean and white, the lines symmetrical. She draws flowers and hearts on them and isn’t surprised when they smudge and fade. She tries to look at them and still think they’re pretty, even if they’re not what she wanted. She tries to do the same for herself.
Relationships: Jules Vaughn & Allen (Euphoria)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	You Bleed Just to Know You're Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to write some Jules centric fic and the part of her backstory where she cut herself in the mental hospital stood out to me for some reason. I wanted to elaborate on how dark she could get in those kind of moments but also how she came out stronger in the end, and I also just wanted to give her a decent adult figure in her life because she clearly needs one; Mr. Vaughn pls check in on your daughter!! 
> 
> Title comes from "Iris" by The Goo Goo Dolls, which I know is a cliche line that was often overused in the emo tumblr days but I felt like it fit perfectly for this fic, as Jules' self harm attempt becomes a bit of a turning point for her own mental stability.
> 
> Content warning for, of course, a canon compliant self harm scene and introspection.

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

Her voice echoes down the hallway, in her own mind. Jules doesn’t need to look up at Allen’s face to know how he feels : disappointed, overwhelmed, scared, maybe even a little pitiful. It’s the same ways that she feels, and she hates the way she begs for help, hates the way she’s caved— and the way she knows she’ll do it again because in a place like this, stranded and practically imprisoned and more alone than she’s ever imagined she could be, there’s no way she won’t. 

Jules’ arm stings but she barely feels it. She blinks and sees flashes of red painted against her eyelids, feels her heart thrum in her ears as she remembers the almost symmetrical pattern the flow of blood had made on its quick glide to her fingertips and onto the floor. She wonders why she did this to herself, wonders why she didn’t do it sooner. 

It feels good, in a twisted kind of way, and she recognizes that she’s wrong for liking it, wrong for wanting it. She wishes she was scared. She should be scared. She should be a lot of things that she isn’t. 

Allen has her in his arms, carrying her to the nurse, and he’s repeating something about how she’ll be okay, she’ll be okay, he’s got her, it’s okay, and she thinks that maybe he’s the only person here who gives a shit about her. And maybe it’s just his job, he’s just required to pretend, or maybe he gets paid enough to actually stop worrying about himself and spare his condolences for someone else who happens to be her, but when she gets brave enough to finally look up into his eyes, she sees it: he cares and he’s sorry. It’s genuine. It’s real. It shakes her to her core.

It’s not the way that her parents are sorry; they’re upset because she’s not what they want and she’s not easy, might not even have the potential to be easy. It’s not in a way where he wants her to change to be something easier to handle, something more understandable, something less stressful and chaotic. Allen wants her to be alright, to be happy, to be a kid freed of this pain, and yeah, she wants that too, honestly. She wants to leave this place and live a life where this is some mere memory in the past, and maybe it’s due to the blood loss and bright lights and stimulus overload, but she realizes that that’s possible. She  _ can _ be okay. She can get out of here. She can do better than this. She can live a different life, create a better, more comfortable body that belongs just to her and feels right. She can change her name, change her clothes, get away. Be free. 

That’s a possibility for her. 

At the medical office, she gets the familiar spiel. She thinks about how she’s always liked the name Juliana, Jules for short, or maybe just Jules. It feels right, like it fits. 

The bandages on her arm are clean and white, the lines symmetrical. She draws flowers and hearts on them and isn’t surprised when they smudge and fade. She tries to look at them and still think they’re pretty, even if they’re not what she wanted. She tries to do the same for herself. 

When Allen finally takes her back to her room, four days later after she’s labeled as stable and her parents have checked in, he sits with her. She drinks a Dixie cup of water and he hands her a sleeve of saltines he pocketed from the cafeteria. She smiles, enough to make him smile back, and she hugs him. She never asks for a can of ginger ale ever again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me about Euphoria or other fandoms in the comments or at my tumblr blog under the same username, sweeterthankarma.


End file.
